


Dial-a-priest

by this_is_a_love_story (diner_drama)



Category: Fleabag (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mutant bats, The bassoon is a cry for help, Wrong Number AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-15 12:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20866046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diner_drama/pseuds/this_is_a_love_story
Summary: It was late on a wet Tuesday evening. The priest was curled up in an armchair with a glass of whiskey and a second-hand paperback copy of Great Expectations for company, when his phone lit up and buzzed against the coffee table.Unknown number:are you still awake?He stared at the screen in puzzlement for a moment before replying.Me:I am, who is this?Unknown number:the hot brunette with the nice arse from the bar last ThursdayShe attached a somewhat tasteful, fully-clothed photo of herself, taken at an imaginative angle, looking over her shoulder into the lens with a knowing twinkle. The priest was forced to agree with her self-assessment of her attractiveness and the quality of her arse.Unknown number:I've got a bottle of limoncello and a value sized jar of coconut oil, want to come over for a memorable evening?Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, he blinked a few times and very firmly suppressed the urge to reply in the affirmative.Me:I'm afraid you've got the wrong number, but I hope you have a lovely time.





	1. Chapter 1

It was late on a wet Tuesday evening. The priest was curled up in an armchair with a glass of whiskey and a second-hand paperback copy of Great Expectations for company, when his phone lit up and buzzed against the coffee table.

**Unknown number:** are you still awake?

He stared at the screen in puzzlement for a moment before replying.

**Me:** I am, who is this?

**Unknown number:** the hot brunette with the nice arse from the bar last Thursday

She attached a somewhat tasteful, fully-clothed photo of herself, taken at an imaginative angle, looking over her shoulder into the lens with a knowing twinkle. The priest was forced to agree with her self-assessment of her attractiveness and the quality of her arse.

**Unknown number:** I've got a bottle of limoncello and a value sized jar of coconut oil, want to come over for a memorable evening?

Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, he blinked a few times and very firmly suppressed the urge to reply in the affirmative.

**Me:** I'm afraid you've got the wrong number, but I hope you have a lovely time.

_I hope you have a lovely time_. Fuck! Like she'd told him she was going to spend a pleasant afternoon playing croquet. 

**Unknown number:** well this is embarrassing.

Despite the shock of her initial brash forwardness, he had to admit he was becoming reluctantly charmed by his mystery correspondent. 

**Me:** Don't worry about it.

**Unknown number:** I don't usually share my innermost secrets with strangers via text message 

**Me:** Well you picked the right wrong number, I'm actually a priest.

**Unknown number:** oh jesus

**Unknown number:** OH, JESUS

**Unknown number:** you're joking

In response, he spent rather longer than he was proud of taking a selfie of him holding a bible in one hand, his collar visible, smiling in a way that he hoped didn't look too manic.

**Unknown number:** oh fuck

**Me:** So don't worry, I've heard far worse in the confession box, believe me.

**Unknown number:** ha

**Unknown number:** hear a lot of juicy sins then?

**Unknown number:** do share

**Me:** You know I can't tell you that!

**Unknown number:** oh go on

**Unknown number:** my plans for the evening are already ruined

**Unknown number:** entertain me

Turning his gaze up to the heavens, the priest pointed at the ceiling. "You can't get annoyed about this one," he said firmly, and took another sip of his drink.

**Me:** OK

**Me:** This is probably fine to tell because I heard it second-hand from a really fucking old priest at seminary school so the person is probably already dead.

**Unknown number:** are you allowed to swear, Father?

**Me:** I fucking hope so.

**Me:** OK so there was this old woman who came into the confession box

**Me:** and she spends a really long time asking the priest whether he's going to keep what she says a secret

**Me:** asking whether he's ever called the police on someone, whether the box is soundproof

**Me:** so the priest reassures her that it's all confidential

**Me:** and he's sure she's about to tell her that she's fucking murdered someone or robbed a bank

**Unknown number:** and??

**Me:** she made a rabbit pie from her daughter's pet rabbit

**Me:** and told her that the rabbit had run away.

**Unknown number:** fucking hell

**Me:** right???

**Me:** somehow I think robbing a fucking bank would almost have been better

**Me:** anyway, I hope that makes up for your ruined evening

The next few text messages came quickly one after another as though the words were spilling out of her as she explained herself.

**Unknown number:** I don't do this kind of thing

**Unknown number:** inviting strange men home

**Unknown number:** I used to

**Unknown number:** but I haven't had sex for 8 months

**Unknown number:** on purpose

**Unknown number:** and I ate a vegetable the other day

**Unknown number:** my body is a temple etc

**Me:** why did you stop?

**Unknown number:** I don't want to give up sex forever, I just

**Unknown number:** the next time I don't want it to be about the thrill of conquest or wanting to feel wanted

**Unknown number:** I want it to be about feelings or whatever

He smirked.

**Me:** "feelings or whatever"

**Me:** That's beautiful

**Me:** Is that from a poem?

**Unknown number:** fuck you

**Me:** I do understand. I was in a similar situation before I was called to the priesthood.

**Me:** Sex never brought me the peace I was searching for.

**Me:** what was different tonight?

**Unknown number:** what?

**Me:** why did you decide to text the number?

**Me:** you got this person's number a week ago, why did it take you until now?

**Unknown number:** Mercury's in retrograde

**Me:** go on, tell me

**Unknown number:** bad day

**Me:** why?

She took a long time in replying and he was about to send a second message to apologise for prying when his phone buzzed again.

**Unknown number:** anniversary of my friend's death

Oh, shit. This is what happens when you pry.

**Me:** I'm sorry for your loss.

**Unknown number:** thanks

**Me:** The funeral liturgy says that life is changed, not ended.

**Me:** I've always loved that, if that's of any help.

**Unknown number:** I'm an atheist, Father, but thank you

**Me:** that's OK

**Me:** some of my best friends are atheists

**Me:** that's a lie, I don't have any friends

**Unknown number:** except for your imaginary friend in the sky ;)

**Me:** oh fuck you

**Unknown number:** thanks for keeping me company tonight

**Unknown number:** me and my coconut oil are going to bed now

**Me:** sweet dreams

* * *

He managed to get to sleep that night without giving in to the temptation to abuse his flesh while imagining rubbing coconut oil all over his new texting buddy, but it was a close call.

After breakfast he did allow himself to send her another text, while reassuring God that he was just doing it to be helpful. 

God didn't believe him, but kept it to himself.

**Me:** how are you feeling today?

**Unknown number:** better, I think

**Unknown number:** back on the wagon

**Me:** I'm glad to hear it

**Unknown number:** you must be an expert at not having sex

He blew out a breath and chewed on his lip, not keen to enter dangerous territory.

**Me:** more of an enthusiastic amateur

**Unknown number:** how do you do it?

**Me:** I believe that I'm supposed to love people in a different way

**Me:** sex was always so complicated

**Me:** I just want to be able to help people in a straightforward way, to have some clarity

**Unknown number:** do you miss it?

**Me:** sometimes

**Me:** but I can't deny that celibacy has brought me a lot of peace

**Unknown number:** what do priests actually do all day?

**Me:** priesty stuff

**Me:** writing sermons, organising the choir and the band and the football team, going around to see the housebound

**Me:** bit of reading

**Me:** fighting off the mutant bats from the attic

**Unknown number:** that's a rookie error

**Unknown number:** get the bats on side

**Unknown number:** instant bat army

**Me:** I don't get on well with the creatures of the night

**Me:** foxes have been after me for years

**Unknown number:** what do they want from you?

**Me:** I don't know!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**Unknown number:** so, easy, get the bats to protect you from the foxes

* * *

**Me:** can bat bites give you a disease?

**Me:** asking for a friend

**Unknown number:** oh for fuck's sake


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is this the part where you ask me what I'm wearing?"
> 
> "What _are_ you wearing?"
> 
> He looked down at himself. "Pyjamas."
> 
> "It's 7PM."
> 
> "They're _comfy_."

One night when he was just settling down with a cup of tea and another book, his phone rang.

"Hi," he said when he picked up.

"Hello, Father," said her voice at the other end of the line. English accent, a bit posh, wryly amused.

"You make voice calls? I thought you were a millennial."

"I'm old school. You're _Irish_."

"I know."

"I should have known. I was curious."

"Is this the part where you ask me what I'm wearing?"

"What _are_ you wearing?"

He looked down at himself. "Pyjamas."

"It's 7PM."

"They're _comfy_."

"Aren't you going to ask me what I'm wearing?"

"OK, but we're not having phone sex."

"I'm wearing the world's least comfortable cocktail dress and about three rolls of tit tape."

"Do I want to know what tit tape is?"

"Probably not. I went to a bar again."

Interesting. "Why?"

"I don't know. The last time I talked to someone in a bar he clearly thought I was in dire need of the phone number of an Irish Catholic priest."

"What did you _say_ to him?"

"I think I was probably charming. I usually am."

He chuckled. "You're not wrong. Did you have a good time?"

"No. Someone grabbed my arse and I left. Didn't even have a drink."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Usually I would have ended up going home with him. I didn't want that. I think I just wanted to... make a friend?"

"Do you have other friends? Family?"

"Not really. My sister lives in Finland half the time. I haven't talked to her in a long time. Do you have a sister?"

"No. Why haven't you talked to her?"

"She thinks I tried to shag her husband, which is patently ridiculous because her husband is _loathsome_."

The urge to give priestly advice was too difficult to overcome. "Why don't you try calling her? If it's been a while, she might be glad to hear from you."

"I guess. Do you have a brother?"

"Yes. Why does she think you tried to fuck her husband?"

"Are you close with your brother?"

He laughed. "No. You didn't answer my question."

"Why aren't you close with your brother?"

"Come on."

"I fucked my best friend's boyfriend and then she walked into traffic and that's why she's dead," she said in a rush. He could hear the wince in her voice.

"_Fuck_."

"So when I told my sister that her husband tried to kiss me on her birthday and he told her that it was the other way around, she chose to believe that slimy bastard instead of me."

He took a long moment to digest this new information before responding. "You're walking around with a lot of pain inside you, aren't you?" he said gently, his heart aching in sympathy.

"Yeah, but..."

"What?"

"I just..."

"_What?_"

"It's my fault," she said simply. "All of it, I caused it. That's why I'm trying... to be better. I don't want to do that any more."

"Everyone makes mistakes."

She huffed a laugh. "That's why they put rubbers on the end of pencils."

"I like that."

"You can have it for free. My next witticism will be priced on a sliding scale."

"You're funny."

"For the right price."

* * *

**Unknown number:** I texted my sister

**Unknown number:** we're going to have coffee

* * *

"I think I might be going crazy," he said without preamble when she picked up the phone.

"Well, you do have bats in the belfry."

"They're in the attic, and that's a bit of a sore spot at the moment, so fuck off."

"Why do you think you're going crazy?"

"OK so I was on a train."

"Yes?"

"We were delayed at East Croydon and I looked out the window."

"Sane so far, continue."

"There was a fucking fox! In the window! It was looking right at me! Nobody else seemed to notice it but I know I saw it."

"That's not outside the realms of possibility. There are a lot of foxes about."

He shuddered. "Don't remind me. But it was looking _right at me_. Right in my _eyes_."

"You're cute, why wouldn't it look at you?"

"We were there for half an hour and it didn't stop staring at me!"

"Why were you at East Croydon for half an hour?"

"Southern Rail."

"Ah, I take it back. Southern Rail? You are completely insane."

"Fuck you." He paused, backtracking a few sentences in the conversation. "Wait, I'm cute?"

"Goodnight, Father."

"Uh, goodnight then, I guess."

"Don't let the foxes bite."

"You don't need to tell _me_ twice."

* * *

After a few weeks of this, he was ready to admit that theirs was the closest friendship he had.

She knew that he was really grateful for Pam's help but that he also found her annoying nearly all the time. She knew about his parents, and his brother, and his weird cousin who kept sending him conspiracy theories on Facebook. She knew about the puns he made in the parish newsletter, and she knew where he hid the G&Ts. 

He knew about her dead best friend, and her family, and the way her guinea pig was kind of a jerk sometimes. He knew that she tended to call late at night or just after the lunch rush was over. He even looked up her café online (there weren't that many guinea pig-themed cafés in the world, it turned out) and it was only a few streets away.

Which was a total fucking disaster.

He was a _priest_, for fuck's sake. He'd made a vow to love only God and to love God's people as a father, and most certainly not to pin beautiful, witty, acerbic women to the nearest flat surface and kiss them until he can't breathe.

It was imperative that they never meet in person. He was careful not to tell her which church was his, never to mention local shops and restaurants. He very conscientiously avoided going within a mile of the café.

There was no way they were ever going to meet, and he'd nearly convinced himself that it was a good thing.

* * *

The priest was leafing through the hymnals to see which ones needed to be replaced and trying very hard not to think about his problems, when he noticed one of the Youthie Band loitering in the doorway.

"Hi Jake," he called. "Are you alright?"

"I forgot my bassoon," he said in a mournful tone. "My aunt is bringing it."

Strange kid, but probably harmless. "Oh, fun. How are your bassoon lessons going?"

Jake trained his attention on someone over the priest's shoulder, ignoring the question entirely.

"Where's Claire?" he asked plaintively.

"Hi, Jake," said a woman's voice, strangely familiar. "She didn't want to come with me because she thinks you're creepy."

"What?"

"I'm joking, she's at work."

The priest turned around to greet the new arrival (and possibly to stand up for Jake, although his creepiness was undeniable and probably deserved to be addressed), and his heart just about stopped. Standing before him was the physical manifestation of his ungodly desires made flesh, walking around as though his world wasn't about to explode.

"Here's your clarinet," she said, handing Jake the case.

"It's a bassoon," he protested.

"It's a birth control device."

"You must be Jake's aunt," said the priest, regaining the ability to speak.

"Step-aunt," she corrected, turning to him. She gave a little start when she made eye contact but other than that managed to maintain her composure. "Hello, Father," she said with a smirk, holding out her hand.

He shook it, noticing distantly that her slender hand had a firm grip. "So Claire's your sister?" he managed, drinking in the sight of her, even more lovely in reality, a walking temptation.

A complicated series of emotions flashed across her face, all of which he could actually decipher given all of their long conversations about her family situation - and isn't that weird? Being able to completely read someone when you're meeting them in person for the first time?

"Yeah, Claire's my sister."

Jake made a little squeaking sound on hearing the word "Claire", making the priest remember that he was still standing there.

"Do you have a rehearsal to get to, Jake?" he prompted gently.

Jake nodded and walked away without a word.

"OK, good talk," said the priest to Jake's retreating back. He turned back to her, suddenly nervous. "Hi."

"Hi."

"Uh, welcome to my church. Do you like tea?"

In answer, she gave him an incredulous look and made a bee-line for the third pew from the back of the church, bending over to retrieve the cache of G&Ts that he'd mentioned in passing the other day.

"I'd think we need something stronger than tea given the situation, don't you?" she said, throwing one to him.

He fumbled to catch the can and dropped it on the floor inelegantly with a few murmured curses.

"Now I think of it, I remember you mentioning that you were bad at sports," she said with an apologetic grimace.

He picked up the can and opened it gingerly, took a large and restorative swig, then ushered her into a side room for some privacy. They perched on rickety folding chairs opposite each other, and she stared into his eyes, studying him in a way that made him feel uncomfortably exposed.

"So you live ten minutes from my café," she stated flatly. He nodded. "Did you know this the whole time?" 

He winced. "I figured it out a few weeks ago. I can't, I'm sorry, I didn't want to intrude," he lied. He _had_ wanted to intrude, in so many ways.

She shrugged, amenably accepting his explanation. "I just assumed you lived in Ireland. I didn't know we still _had_ Catholics here."

"We send a few over every year as a punishment for when you enslaved our whole country."

They laughed together, such an easy connection, and his fingers itched with the urge to grab her and kiss her.

"The photos didn't do you justice," she said, giving him a thorough and obvious once-over. The blood thrummed in his veins as his eyes drifted down her body in return.

He sucked in a breath and tried very hard to keep his cool. 

"You're the single most beautiful human being I've ever seen, and the fact that you're in my church right now is ruining my fucking life," he blurted out. 

Fuck.

She softened visibly and stood up, draining the rest of her drink. "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do. We can just talk on the phone." She was watching him with immense gentleness, seeing right through into his very soul. "I like talking to you. It's OK."

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that, I don't want to send you away, I just-" He stood up, rubbing his temples with one hand. "I like talking to you, too," he said softly, looking utterly lost.

She crossed the room and took his face in her hands, bringing their foreheads to rest together. "I'm glad I met you," she whispered, slipping her fingers to card through his hair. He leaned into the touch like a needy cat and let out a shuddering breath.

She pulled away to press a chaste kiss to his forehead, getting ready to leave, and something inside him snapped. He backed her up against the crumbling brick wall, and finally let himself taste the ruby-red lips that had been whispering in his ear for weeks. She made a pleased noise and kissed him back, her arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

"Are you sure?" she asked as they broke for air.

"I'm sure," he panted, hiking up her legs to wrap around his waist, and let the life he'd built crash down around them.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your favourite lines in the comments!


End file.
